


A Cry Above The Battlefield

by afterism



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: darkwitches, Danger Kink, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, First War with Voldemort, Hate Sex, Infidelity, Pre-Canon, Public Sex, Public Transportation, Revenge Sex, a moment of silence for all the valkyrie metaphors i couldn't fit in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:22:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterism/pseuds/afterism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She keeps one hand on her wand, and thinks she's safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a shot in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> Written for someone in the darkwitches exchange who unfortunately dropped out. 
> 
> This is dark, shameless porn, and the result to trying to find a way to make Lily/Bellatrix work in character. I have no idea if I succeeded, but please heed the warnings - bad things happen and none of it is handled sensibly or sanely. There's heavy dub-con with both Bellatrix and Lily initiating it on separate occasions, revenge/hate!sex, post-rape mentality (of the self-blaming but also really angry kind), and slight nymphomania with a large dose of danger!kink.

**August 1978**

The London Underground is a maddening crush this time of evening, and Lily keeps her hand wrapped around her wand with a white-knuckled grip, buried in the bag slung over her shoulder. Using Muggle transport to get to the Order's meeting house is a desperate last resort, but they know the Floo network is compromised - too many people disappearing or finding themselves at the wrong fireplace and surrounded - they can't Apparate or Portkey inside due to the charms she spent days putting around it, and there's nowhere close enough to appear suddenly without causing alarm. They're going to have to do something about that, she thinks, as a businesswoman pushes past her on the escalator and she stumbles, hip barging sharply against the handrail, because this is _intolerable_.

She's swept along with the crowd through an archway and on to the platform, the air hot and stagnant, and every argument about anonymity and safety in division is a distant, irrelevant buzz in comparison to the feeling of being watched, weighing down on her like the summer heat. She glances left and right but the sea of faces is indistinct, and then the train arrives with a thundering clatter and a rush of stale air and the crowd surges forward, the carriage filling quickly as she scans the crowd again, hesitating. She's one of the last to squeeze her way in, rubbing her thumb along the smooth wood of her wand like an anchor, and leans into the carriage as the doors close with a hiss and a thud. She's pushed back with shuffled feet and mutterings that might be apologies, and so she leans against the door, holds back a curse and tries to draw herself in as much as possible as the train pulls away from the station and plunges into the tunnel.

The silence is heavy and hot, full of muffled coughs and newspapers rustling and the scrape of shoes as people try to keep their balance – it's all so perfectly _normal_ , and maybe the feeling like something's burning against the back of her neck is just the tension of being on the verge of war, of being trapped in unfamiliar place without back-up or an escape route, and she takes a breath and turns to face the door, watching the darkness flashing past the window as she counts the number of stops until she can get off - and then the train judders, and slows, and the lights begin to flicker.

She whips her head around, checking the carriages at either end of hers to see the lights steady and the passengers unconcerned. The Muggles around her begin to mutter quietly, a spreading ripple of unease and her wand is halfway out her bag, all pretence of calm forgotten, and then the lights blink out completely and the carriage plunges into darkness and there's a voice behind her hissing into her ear, saying, "You're a hard one to find, Evans."

Lily drives her elbow back as hard as she can and the train shudders, throwing her against the door and a body into her back and her hand knocks against the wall so hard it opens on reflex and her wand is _gone_ , and that thought only registers half a second before someone grabs her wrist and yanks it up behind her back so hard she yelps. "There, now, I only want to talk," someone giggles behind her, sounding light and syrupy and dangerous, and there's the tip of a wand scratching sharp against her ribs, someone's breath hot and tickling against her neck, someone pinning her against the door with the full crush of their body. She can't see, can't move, can barely _breathe_ \- the glass window is cold against her cheek and the train is pitch dark but it is still moving, slower than before but it is still going, and the worried chattering from the rest of the carriage sounds distant and distorted like they're the other side of a thin wall, and she feels suddenly, desperately alone.

"I have an offer for you," the voice says, loud enough for Lily to determine posh, and female, and _excited_. "Join us," she says, twisting her wand so it digs further into her side, and Lily has no doubt that 'us' means Death Eaters, "or die."

So this is it. She's going to die, wandless and alone in a train carriage full of Muggles, her heart pounding like this is the last chance it's ever going to get, and still she doesn't hesitate in saying, simply, "No."

"Just _no_?" The woman behind her laughs - cackles, horrible and delighted - and with a hot flush of terror Lily realises that this isn't going to be quick, that she knows who is standing behind her, and buried deep there's an odd, faint thrill of pride that they sent _Bellatrix Lestrange_ after her. "You're not going to beg for your life? Tell me you'll do _anything_ to spare yourself?" Bellatrix mocks, releasing her wrist and keeping it pinned between them with the weight of her body as her hand slips down to Lily's waist and pinches, before dragging up between her stomach and the door and groping her roughly, her fingernails digging in and Lily gasps, breathless and hitched.

Bellatrix laughs vicious and piercing as Lily turns her head, her cheek slipping against the glass as she catches the glint of Bellatrix behind her in the darkness, and she pushes back to make sure she's got her full attention as she repeats, "No."

Bellatrix snarls and shoves Lily back against the door so she hits it shoulder first, her wand tearing a thin line through her shirt, and her hair irritates Lily's neck as she crowds in close and hisses in her ear, "I'm disappointed, Evans. I expected more of a _fight_ ," she says, punctuating it with another rough squeeze, and to be honest so did Lily, but she's trapped and wandless and alone and she was so _stupid_ to have come down here on her own, to not have had her wand out the whole time, to let a Death Eater so close she must be able to feel the heat radiating off her flushed skin.

And there's that treacherous little thought that maybe she _wanted_ this, that lights up with every scrape of Bellatrix's fingernails and throbs in time with her heartbeat, that can sense danger and _aches_ for it. The train clatters slowly on and in the darkness her ragged breathing is answered only by Bellatrix's amused, considering hums, and she can't even cry out. The Muggles in the crowded carriage are oblivious and scared and so close she could touch them if only she could free one of her arms, but they might as well be in another universe for all that they can help her.

Bellatrix kneads her breast in a mockery of gentleness, and Lily moans, small and terrified but undoubtedly a moan. Bellatrix pauses. "What was that, little Evans?" she says, and Lily bites her tongue instead of replying, and so Bellatrix slides her hand across Lily's shirt until she finds a nipple, stiff and sensitive, and _squeezes_. Lily moans again, helplessly, closes her eyes and rests her forehead against the glass. Bellatrix's laugh is something terrifying, a war cry above a battlefield, and that's all the warning she gets before the wand tip is gone from her side and suddenly there's a hand under her skirt, shoving her thighs apart and rubbing two fingers against her clit. Lily chokes off a gasp and can't stop herself grinding down against her hand, because she's always been easily stimulated but it's never been a bad thing, never been something she had to control, and Bellatrix laughs and snarls, "You filthy little _slut_ ," like it's a compliment.

Lily gulps and gasps and tries to get her breathing under control, tears stinging her eyes and she's rocking her hips in short shallow thrusts and Bellatrix is making her ride her hand so roughly she's sliding against the door by several inches at a time. With dull realisation she finds one of her arms is free but all she can do is press it against the door and hang on as something hot and dry pushes her knickers out of the way and shoves inside her, as Bellatrix cackles something terrible, a threat or a promise or something and bites her shoulder and Lily comes with a desperate cry, high and choked and everything goes so bright she knows she must be dead 

\- but then she realises she can see, that they're out the tunnel and pulling into a station and her knees are so weak she all but falls out of the carriage as the doors open and the crowd surges forward, and she's running before she has her balance but she doesn't stop, slams one hand against the wall to turn the corner and keeps going, the ticket barriers springing open with barely a thought and she's out in the dark and cold air before she stumbles to a stop, choking for air and her heart pounding in her ears, and when she looks back there's no one following her, although a couple on the other side of the street are looking at her strangely.

She gasps down air until she can breathe almost normally, starts walking again with slow and faltering steps, and sticks to the light. She shivers, skin turning cold as the sweat dries and there's a dull ache between her legs and her face feels horribly clammy, and she reaches into her bag for a tissue, or something, and instead finds her wand. It's slightly warm in her hand, and she just stares at it for a moment, and then she finds the nearest side alley, casting _Lumos_ to check it's empty ( _safe_ ), and for a moment she's going to Apparate straight home, scrub herself clean and climb into bed and maybe _Obliviate_ herself - but then with a cold sort of clarity she thinks about James, and the Order, and the importance of what they're doing, and she's shivering with a kind of exhilaration she hasn't felt in a long time. She wants to _fight_.

She shifts her grip on her wand, rubbing her thumb across the smooth wood like a charm, and sets her mind to the Order house. If she's really good (and she is), she might just be able to land in the shadows by the front steps and get in before anyone outside notices her arrival and anyone inside even realises she's late. With a private sort of smile, all determination and cold fury, she readies herself, and twists.


	2. aimed right at my heart

**March 1979**

The thing is, she _enjoyed_ it, and months later that's the thought that wakes her up in the middle of the night and sets her heart pounding. During the hours that matter she's never been more focused in her life, because lives actually depend on her knowledge and instincts and skill, and maybe if she saves enough she'll stop feeling so guilty. She flinches every time James touches her, a reflex to fight before she takes a breath and relaxes against him and pretends that she's fine, that she's in control. The war, she says, and, it's changed me, and she's not lying.

She's not scared. She's _angry,_ and as the shop door explodes behind her there's an answering cry from her heart of _finally_. 

There's only five of them against a sudden swarm of black robes and white masks - it's more than the Order would usually need on a night watch of guard duty, but they've learnt the hard way to expect the worst, and with the first flash of spelllight Lily's up on the balls of her feet and flying across the room, shooting a stunner over James's shoulder as he casts a shield spell to cover her back. The world narrows, nothing but fight and survival and this is what she lives for, now, every muscle and sinew and nerve ready for this. She can see with perfect clarity, count each blank face and raised wand against her and counter their attacks before the tip barely glows, slicing a breathtaking arc through a black robe even as Alice ducks behind the counter to take cover from the fireball she just shot - Lily drops and rolls and takes out someone's ankles with a flash and crack of bone as the heat snaps past her, and she's up and dueling again in a swirl of scorching air.

Two of the Death Eaters break away, rushing up the stairs and she's closest and after them without hesitation, hitting one in the back with a vicious binding curse and vaulting over the body as it falls, screaming. The figure in front reaches the top and keeps running along the balcony without glancing back, just shooting wild, unaimed spells back at Lily without breaking stride and it's just enough to them to the end of the walkway unharmed, blasting through a door marked 'Employees Only' even as Lily's spell sizzles past their head. She's only a few paces being and she's through the door as it tries to ricochet back, painfully shoulder-barging past it and stumbling on to find herself in a corridor filled with boxes and dusty mannequins, leading deep into the back of the shop, and she's only distantly aware of the door swinging shut behind her and the rest of the battle fading as she narrows in on the figure decimating the lock on a door halfway down, and the door springs open with a bang just as Lily disarms them with such force they slam into the side of the doorway, their wand flying down the corridor and their hood falling back and with a sick twist of _something_ Lily realises that they weren't wearing a mask. Bellatrix, recovering, shoots her a grin full of teeth, and disappears through the open door.

Lily charges after her without thinking, because suddenly she's nothing but pure _rage_. Through the door is a thin, dark office, filled with more boxes and cabinets and a large desk towards the back wall that Bellatrix is heading for as Lily silently, furiously casts a spell that sends everything shaking and a moment later the room suddenly blazes with light. Bellatrix staggers, half-blinded and off-balance and Lily catches up and propels her into the wall, binding her wrists behind her back with neat precision before she hits it and then slams her forearm against Bellatrix's chest, jabbing her wand into the tight skin underneath her jaw, forcing her head up and back.

It feels like every inch of her skin is pounding just beneath the surface, her chest heaving with the strain as she catches her breath, and this is it, she thinks, as Bellatrix just watches her, this ends now, she's going to kill her and be rid of this blackness that's been poisoning her mind - but (a small, James-like voice in her head says), they've been ordered to arrest and interrogate, and her rage seems to be ebbing with every breath, leaving her warm and flushed and shaky. And she's _disarmed_.

Bellatrix laughs. "Oh, little _Evans_ ," she says, and kisses her before she can react. Molten heat shoots straight through her, pooling hot and golden like Bellatrix's lips have a direct line to her core, and she can't help it - Lily gasps, and falls into it. Bellatrix's laugh twists something dark and pleased and this must be a spell, surely, because not even James can make her melt like this, without a word and barely a touch, and Lily shoves her thigh between Bellatrix's legs just so her knee can hit the wall behind, with a short burst of clarifying pain.

But it's not enough, because she's still kissing her, sharp teeth catching on her bottom lip for a moment before Lily twists away, her mouth finding the tight flesh of her neck instead and her wand is still pressing into Bellatrix's jaw but her other hand is grabbing at her artlessly and she can't stop herself (she's _trying_ , oh Merlin is she trying), muscle memory responding to the heat of Bellatrix beneath her instead of herself, her cunt slick and throbbing with need - and, in that case, the only thing she can do is command Bellatrix to respond to her instead.

"It's Potter now," she says, shaky and breathless and not nearly as strongly as she would like, but her wedding ring is cold and tight around her finger and she pushes Bellatrix to her knees. Bellatrix goes easily, careless and snakelike, and her teeth flash sharp as she grins lazily up at Lily like this is exactly where she wants to be, and for an instant that's almost enough to snap her into reason; until Bellatrix arches forward and fixes her mouth over the seam of Lily's faded, practical jeans, her breath hot and damp and just enough to seep through the fabric, a promise of something perfect just where she needs it. Lily's knees start to buckle and she slumps against the wall, arching over Bellatrix underneath her, and all sense leaves her as she grabs the back of Bellatrix's head and casts a charm to give her jeans all the consistency of a fine mist and finally gets that tongue sliding rough and wet over her clit. 

Bellatrix makes a sound, something between a cackle and a purr, and Lily tightens her fist in her hair and yanks her closer and cants her hips so she's completely muzzled by Lily's cunt, just riding her face with graceless twitches, a wet slide of mouth and tongue and a sharp catch of teeth that makes her moan with every jolt. She closes her eyes and rests her forehead against the wall, barely holding on as the friction burns beautifully up inside her, and she's only distantly aware of Bellatrix shifting beneath her as her world narrows to nothing but the slip and suction against her centre.

There's a madwoman between her legs that probably wants to kill her, and that's the thought she's grasping at as she comes, suddenly and violently, riding her mouth for the last few thrusts as the heat shoots through her like a firebomb. She shudders with it until she can stop, loosening every muscle and she draws in a deep lungful of air and feels completely, utterly, _sated_ -

and then she's falling and she hits the floor hard, pain blossoming in her shoulder and she's still got her wand in her hand but she's too drained to react with any useful speed when she realises Bellatrix is standing over her, her wrists untied and her own wand trained on Lily's chest, and her slick, shining grin is the last thing she sees before the world burns in a pure white light.

 

(James finds her after, unconscious and bleeding on the floor, and his heart stops for as long as it takes to skid on his knees to her side and find her still breathing. The room looks turned over, the remains of half a desk still smouldering, and they don't know exactly what the Death Eaters were after but something made then suddenly turn tail and run in the middle of the battle - but that doesn't matter, because she's _alive_ , and when the first words out of her mouth after she wakes up are apologies he shushes them with a kiss, and doesn't wonder why she tastes like ash.)


End file.
